Smoldering Wick: Musings During the Long Night
by vonanna22
Summary: If you could die tomorrow, what would you think about tonight?


AN: This one-shot is just a small attempt at the inner thoughts of Arya and Gendry which led up to their evening in G.O.T. Episode 2 of Season 8. If you are reading this, I hope you have already seen the episode. I am not recreating their scenes fully. I am just attempting to fill in what was unsaid. Where the musing ends you can simply pick up the scene as it was done in cannon.

I do not own any characters belonging to The Game of Thrones book or TV show franchises. This is simply fan appreciation and wonder.

Smoldering Wick: Musings During the Long Night

Arya enters the forge.

I'm looking at him again. Why is it that he draws my line of sight whenever we are in the same room together? He has gotten better with age – bigger, stronger, his skin glistening like smoldering copper from the heat of the forge doing its work day after day.

My eyebrow twitches slightly and I find that my breathing pattern changes when watching him. The deepening inhalation as one who is trying to distinguish his scent from all others in the room. My eyes instinctively close as I inhale deeply again. I can't get a whiff because I am too far away but, I remember… I remember; just like a young wolf cub does - I remember as we slept together hidden under brambles just off of the road as to not to be detected. He always had a slight metallic smell on his skin. A young man forged in the fire of his years of working in a forge – strong, unyielding, yet refined, & beautiful – he always reminded me of safety on those nights, at least the ones when Hotpie didn't squeeze in between us.

I should have known, that if he could manage to stay alive, that he would only get better with time. The glow of the fire behind him even now, as he is surrounded by the steam as he cools the steel that he has just beaten within an inch of its life. I can almost forget that it is winter here in the north due to the heat that I feel from him, he is definitely the one. She thought to herself.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Gendry's eyes rose to see himself being studied by a familiar but strangely different face. He could not place the difference before. Yes, she had grown and she was a woman now, but it was in her eyes; that was it. Something so different in her eyes, as if they were seeing through the scars of sights none dare know.

He wondered; where she's been all this time? Was she at Winterfell all along? He thought he remembered hearing that Winterfell had be lost to the Bolton's. He didn't think she was here for that, or for the Battle of the Bastards. But if that were true; where had she been? When they last spoke alone, together, she said that she was going to Winterfell the next day – what took her so long to arrive? He thought. Questions for another time. I'm just glad that she is safe for as long as that holds out. He remembers why he is here and what he needs to help protect them from. If only we had more time.

"Did you make my weapon?" She asked…

XXXXX

Gendry completed the weapon and stared at it. That girl always knows what she wants. He chuckled within himself. 'I better get this to her." He thought as he was laying it aside. He felt some gritty shards still left from the Dragonglass on his hands. I'd better clean up a little first. He thought.

Bundled for the journey into the cold of the North Gendry roamed around Winterfell. "It would have been nice to know where her room was in this maze – she always just seems to appear." His thoughts drifted. As he walked, he saw different people separated into to groups huddling up for shelter. He saw families explaining how much the loved each other. He heard others speaking of their final hours together.

He never had a family and he could die tomorrow, and even now; he was walking alone. His head hung in the sadness and stillness of contemplation. Even now with no promise of seeing the sunrise the following day, the only person who was closest to him was the highborn, tough girl of Winterfell. "I could be your family" He remembered, as he rounded the side of the stables towards the food stores; a light caught his eye and as he peered inside – there she was.

Practicing with a bow and arrow and nailing every shot. He watched her stance, the way that she drew back on the bow, which highlighted the small of her back and the strength of her legs as he watched her clothing form and tighten around her. "My last hours… I'd want to spend with her." He'd thought to himself. "I told her that we couldn't be family and yet she is the only person that feels like family to me. If only I hadn't been a bastard." He thinks as he moves forward catching Arya's attention. "Is that for me?" She asked…

XXXXX

"How many girls have you been with?"

"Three." He found himself saying. How did we get on this topic? He wondered. Will she think that number is too little, or too many? Why does she want me to tell her about that? I only wanted a chance to be close to her, sit near her. Hold her in his arms and rest his head near hers…something nice to remember before the long forgetfulness. But instead he is lowering her thoughts of him even more with this exchange. He hated the thought of his lust and humanity if it would make her think less of him, now of all times.

She is wary around me. There is no warmth in her tone or her eyes. Maybe she has never forgiven me for telling her that I would stay with the Brotherhood without Banners. "We're probably going to die soon. I want to know what it is like before that happens." Arya spoke as she moved towards me. Wait…what? What did she just say? I thought as I searched her eyes for clarity; stop wishing Gendry. Tell her that you want to but…

"Arya I," He felt the force of her lips on his own. We're kissing! This was a dream, to wonderful to be real, but all I could think was "As I wished, milady."

The End.


End file.
